The Slaves of the Padishah Part 41

"Hah! the woman has fainted," cried the odalisk in alarm; "we shall both perish here," she cried in her despair.

The din in the fortress grew louder every instant, from every bastion the signal-guns thundered.

"No, no, we must not perish!" exclaimed the heroine, and with a strength multiplied by the extremity of the danger, she caught up the moaning woman and child in her arms, and raising them to her bosom began making her way with them along the covered corridor.

Pitch darkness engulfed everything around them; the odalisk groped her way along by the feel of the wet, sinuous walls, stumbling from time to time beneath the burden of the dead weight in her arms, but at every fresh shot she started forward again and went on without resting.

Onwards, ever onwards!--till the last gasp! till the last heart-throb!

The awakened child also began to cry.

Azrael's knees tottered, her bosom heaved beneath the double load, her staring eyes saw nothing; and the world was as dark before her soul as it was before her eyes.

Heavy was the load upon her shoulder; but heavier still was the thought in her heart that this woman whom she was saving at the risk of her own life was the darling of him whom she loved herself, yet save her she must, for she had promised to do so.

At every step she felt her strength diminishing; with swimming head she staggered against the wall, the steps seemed to have no end; if only she could hold out till she reached the door with her, and then for a moment might see Feriz Beg and hear from his lips the words: "Well done!"--then Israfil, the Angel of Death might come with his flaming sword.

For some time she had gathered from the hollower resonance of the steps in the darkness that she was approaching the door; rallying her remaining strength, she tottered forward a few paces with her load, and when the latch of the door was already in her hand, her knees gave way beneath her, and along with the Princess and the child, she fell in a heap on the threshold, being just able to shove the key into the lock and turn it twice.

Feriz Beg, with the Magyar n.o.bles, plunged again beneath the shade of the deep arch of the gate of the fortress garden and with wrapt attention listened for the muezzin to proclaim midnight. It was then that Azrael had said she would come.

It never occurred to him that the woman could not come, so deeply had he looked into her heart that he felt sure she would fulfil her promise.

If only the muezzin would proclaim midnight from the mosque.

At last a cry sounded through the stillness of the night, but it was not the voice of the muezzin from the mosque, but Ha.s.san's yell of terror from the fortress window and the din which immediately followed it, proclaiming that there was danger.

Feriz's heart was troubled, but he never moved from the spot. He knew right well what that noise meant. They had tried to help the Princess to escape and her escape was discovered.

"What is that noise?" asked the Prince apprehensively, sticking up his head.

Feriz did not want to alarm him.

"It is nothing," he answered. "Some one has stolen away on the bastions, perhaps, and they are pursuing him."

Then the first cannon-shot resounded.

Feriz, for the first time in his life, was agitated at the sound of a cannon.

"That is an alarm-signal," cried Tokoly, drawing his sword.

"Keep quiet!" whispered Feriz, "perhaps they are shooting at the people who are thronging the gates."

Nevertheless the shots were repeated from every bastion; the tumult, the uproar increased; a tattoo was beaten, the trumpets rang out and a whole concourse of people could be seen running along the bastions with torches and flashing swords in their hands.

"They are pursuing someone!" cried the Prince, and unable to endure it any longer, he leaped upon the bank.

"I know not what it is," stammered Feriz, and a cold shudder ran through his body.

Ghyka grasped his sword, and would have rushed up the hill as if obeying some blind instinct.

"What would you do?" whispered Feriz, grasping the hand of the Prince, and pulling him back by force under the gate.

For a few moments they stood there in a dead silence, the tumult, the uproar seemed to be coming nearer and nearer--if it were to overtake them?

"Hush!" whispered Feriz, holding his ear close to the door. He seemed to hear footsteps approaching from within and the plaintive wail of a child.

A few moments afterwards there was a fumbling at the latch and a key was thrust into the lock and twice turned. Feriz hastened to open the door and the senseless forms of the two women fell at his feet.

The youth quickly dragged the Prince after him, and recognising Mariska, who still lay in the embrace of Azrael, he placed her in her husband's arms together with the weeping child.

"Here are your wife and child," said he, "and now hasten!"

"Mariska!" exclaimed the Prince, beside himself; and embracing the child whom he now saw for the first time, he kissed the rosy face of the one and the pallid face of the other again and again.

That voice, that kiss, that embrace awoke the fainting woman, and as soon as she opened her eyes, she quickly, pa.s.sionately, flung her arms round her husband's neck while he held the child on his arm. No sound came from her lips, all her life was in her heart.

"Quick! quick!" Feriz whispered to them. "Get into this skiff. When you get to the other side it will be time to rejoice in each other; till then we have cause to fear, for the whole of the Buda side of the river is on the alert. But I'll look after them here. On the other bank my servant is awaiting you with the swift horses; mention my name, and he will hand them over to you. On the banks of the Raab you will find another of my servants with fresh relays. Choose your horses, and then to Nograd as fast as you can. Thence it will be easy to escape into Poland. Do not linger. Every moment is precious. Forward!"

With that he conducted the fugitives to the skiff which was ready waiting for them, and at the bottom of which two muscular servants of his were lying out of sight. These helped them in, Feriz undid the rope, and at a few strokes of the oars they were already some distance from the sh.o.r.e.

Then only did Feriz breathe freely, as if a huge load had fallen from his heart.

"May they not pursue them?" inquired Tokoly anxiously.

"They may," returned Feriz; "but they cannot transport the horses in boats, as the fugitives now sit in the only boat here; the bridge, too, has been removed and they will hardly be able to build another in time on such a night as this."

The fugitives had now reached the middle of the Danube, when Mariska, who had scarce been herself for joy and terror in her half-unconscious state, suddenly bethought her of her companion who had saved her with such incomprehensible self-sacrifice and energy, and standing up in the skiff waved her handkerchief as if she would thereby make up for the leave-taking which she had neglected in her joy and haste.

"What are they doing?" cried Feriz angrily, seeing that they were attracting attention in consequence.

Fortunately the night was dark and the people rushing down from the bastions could not see the skiff making its way across the Danube; presently its shape even began to vanish out of sight of the young eyes that were watching it.

Feriz looked up to the sky with a transfigured face. Two stars, close together, looked down very brightly from amidst the fleeting clouds. Did he not see Aranka's eyes in that twin stellar radiance?

Tokoly took the hands of the young hero and pressed them hard.

"Once before we stood face to face," he said with a feeling voice, which came from the bottom of his heart, "then I prevailed, now you prevail.

G.o.d be with you!"

Then the young Count mounted his horse, and beckoning to his comrades, galloped off in the direction of Gellerthegy.

Feriz stood there alone on the sh.o.r.e with folded arms and tried to distinguish once more the shape of the skiff already vanishing in the darkness.

n.o.body thought of the poor odalisk who had saved them.

All at once the youth felt the contact of a burning hand upon his arm.